Gather round chillen, for I have a ghost story to tell you. Or perhaps it's a Holy Ghost story.

Sunday, October 13, 2002 became perhaps the most intensive day in my experience of rock music. I saw Jerry Lee Lewis and Elvis play. It was a rock and roll day of the Pentacost. If there was not a literal tongue of fire over my head signifying the presence of the Holy Spirit, I could nonetheless feel the Spirit in waves.

His initial appearance confirmed my worst fears. He looked like death warmed over for the second or third time. He had the pallor of a corpse; he had little color to him. He seemed puffy, like he'd been pumped full of embalming fluid. This seemed especially bad in contrast to the memory of Jerry Lee as one of the more beautiful and physically vital performers ever. I couldn't help but think that he'd look like this when he's laid out in that pine box - probably not too long from now.

He came out slightly hunched over. He struggled to shuffle his way across the stage and sit down at the Steinway piano. His voice slurred as he greeted the audience. I haven't followed his health issues closely, but he sounded like a stroke victim. It didn't look like there was going to be a whole of shaking today. Then he reached out his old man hands to the keyboard and opened his mouth to sing.

Son of a bitch! That's Jerry Lee Lewis stuck inside that corpse's shell, and he'd come to rock the bells. He wasn't going to be jumping up and down, making show, but he had a force of will and pride in his performance that obviously won't be stopped by anything short of death.

Get over your initial shock and dismay over his physical condition, and look closer into the eyes. Yeah, that's still him in there, all right. The world changing life force of the man is still right here with us. Jerry Lee Lewis would not even understand the concept of going gently into that good night, much less being willing to do so.

Singing "Sweet Little Sixteen" must at this point be more an aesthetic than a practical interest, but he was all over it. The corners of his mouth turned down in a little frown of satisfaction. Yeah, he knew he still had it.

By this point in life, his hormones have dissipated and the animation of simple physical lust has faded. The women folk and farm animals can probably rest fairly safe now- though seeing that glint in his eyes, he might just surprise you.